A few months ago, I had dinner with a family friend and she mentioned an exhibit called Beyond Bollywood. Admittedly, I wasn't really listening. I was more interested in my food than I was listening to anyone in the group talk. However, I stumbled upon the exhibit at the National Museum of Natural History and found myself excited, as I often am when learning about Indian culture and seeing how it is viewed from an American standpoint.
Three steps into the exhibit, you're exposed to a map that roughly charts Indian immigration throughout the world. It's shocking to see that Uganda is a place that they move to, and underwhelming to see that they've placed a star above the Dominican Republic and Haiti as a marker to show where Indian people immigrated to, rather than over Trinidad and Tobago or Guyana; which are both countries that Indians were brought to, at the very least (using my own family history as a reference point), about three generations ago. However, I didn't let that sway my hopes for the exhibit.
It is easier, I supposed, for people to recognize the highlighted area as the Caribbean, than a small island incredibly close to South America, or understand why there is a high concentration Desi people in a country on said continent. I hoped that they would discuss what it's like to be an Indian in the West Indies, even if it was only a little blurb.
As I moved around the room, I discovered religions I didn't know existed, learned of discoveries made by Indian-Americans, and read small viewpoints on how they feel about being a part of American culture as well as the lengths they go to fit in. It was all easy to relate to and understandable, despite being the child of born and naturalized American citizens. There was one, small section on the blending on Mexican and Indian culture through marriage (with a humorous comparison of tortillas and roti), as well as a quick mention of Black-Americans, as well as other races, that have been able to connect with Indian-Americans in the same manner. It felt good to read. Like being recognized in a way I'm often not: take that; in the same way I'm Black, I'm Indian.
(In fear of digressing horribly, I will simply say that while the American system does a great job of telling me I'm African American and forcing me, and any other half Black person, to accept this, there is a huge disconnect between myself and other Black people. I am too Black for the Whites, and not Black enough for them. It's hard for people who aren't mixed to understand this. It's hard for me to understand this. I am both Black-American and Indian-Trinidadian. Both are vital to who I am.)
I moved on. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for another blurb to pop up, to mention what it's like to be an Indian-American that was forced to settle someplace else (i.e., the Caribbean), to be stripped of an entire culture and livelihood, made into an ideal Christian or Catholic and assimilate, before having children of their own and dispersing throughout the United States for a better life. Or, at the very least, a little write up that explained the Indians that moved to America from some other country, that their culture is at the same time the same as and different from people from their homeland. But, there was nothing.
It was uncomfortable, and still is. I realize, incredibly unimpressed, that this isn't common knowledge for everyone. I've rarely met a Desi person that was aware that people were lied to and taken to the America's to be "farmers" (and the exhibit did mention that there are many Indian farmers in America, but I am not speaking of it so pleasantly), when they were -in actuality- glorified slaves. They were given land, but had to work like dogs to maintain enough of a living to continue to rent it. They were given bibles and Christianity. They were rewarded for assimilating. They ate this up. And, if I do happen upon someone who does know, it isn't incredibly wise to speak of it. These people aren't them. They are too similar to Black-Americans in their history (though, if you ask Indian-Caribbeans, they were not slaves, they were indentured servants. They too work so hard to separate themselves, and even I do when I attempt to explain my history). Once removed Indians are not like these people who were brought over to work a few generations ago. (For some people, this is literally a generation or two ago. I can easily tell you the regions my mother's family is from in South Asia. My grandmother can tell you the towns. She is recognized as Indian until she opens her mouth. And then, there it is: she's Trinidadian. And hands are clean.)
And maybe that's it. Maybe Caribbean Indian people are not bothered by not being included because they haven't been and are not included in Indian culture. What they've done to preserve what culture they could before again uprooting their lives to move to the United states is not considered a part to Indian culture. Or, maybe it's too much to consider Indian. It isn't the stereotypical experience as a whole-
Does this lack of acknowledgment not bother anyone else?
What I am trying to say is that while I was forced to operate under the belief that Indian people moved from India to America with no stop in between, and it was enjoyable under that belief, there is so much to be desired of this exhibit. They've moved "Beyond Bollywood" and into aspects of India and Indian-American life that currently dominate American culture (yoga, masala, taxi drivers -don't get me started-, Miss America, light politics even), but not exactly in to any history.
It was strange. It was weird. I don't know. I think it was exactly what they didn't really want, but strived for anyway: another spoonful of culture for American's to swallow down.
